COULD it be that my size and weight are somehow tied up with an experience I had early on in life? One of my strongest childhood memories is of a Sunday when my dad came to the house and we were sitting eating our roast dinner together.
My dad, Clifford Hammond, was a big man with a big presence. He wooed my mum Maria and she fell madly in love with him, and pregnant with me, before finding out he was married.
Dad came to our house sporadically. He would just land on us and expect the whole world to stop for him — and because my mum was in love with him, the whole world did stop.
Mum’s great cooking came into its own when she made her Sunday roast, but this Sunday I reached a point when I’d had enough to eat. “I’ve finished, Mum.
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